


Can't Buy My Love (It's Already Yours)

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Everyone Needs Therapy, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Past Prostitution, Sexual Content, and they actually get it, depending on how you look at it but its heavily implied, discussions about consent, former rent boy!eggsy, potential past non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Tequila finds out something about Eggsy's past, and suddenly his behavior in bed makes a lot more sense.





	Can't Buy My Love (It's Already Yours)

**Author's Note:**

> If I have forgotten to tag anything important, please, please let me know, because this is pretty angsty, by my standards. Happy ending, though, I promise.

Tequila doesn’t think it’s much of an exaggeration to say Eggsy is the best sex of his life. Being head over heels in love with him doesn’t hurt, but it’s definitely not only that, even if Tequila feels guilty sometimes for thinking it. Eggsy clearly has some experience, and it really pays off, because most of the time, when they have sex, it’s fucking amazing. Tequila isn’t a slouch in bed himself, but Eggsy can do things with his body – his flexible, incredibly fit body – that Tequila hadn’t even thought possible outside of porn.

And Eggsy gets pushy in bed. That’s not a problem; Tequila doesn’t mind being bossed around a bit, and they’ve talked about exploring that a little deeper (well, talked is an exaggeration; they’ve hinted at it and Tequila desperately hopes they actually talk about it sometime soon because Eggsy has wonderfully firm hands and an excellent commanding voice and Tequila kind of wants to be put over his knee and punished – in a sexy way, of course). The problem is, sometimes when Eggsy gets bossy, it’s over odd things, and Eggsy’s voice gets a strange note in it when he demands them. Eggsy gets touchy when Tequila uses the phrase ‘making love,’ he doesn’t let Tequila do anything even remotely bordering on PDA (including handholding, kisses, and pet names, much to Tequila’s dismay), and whenever Tequila suggests maybe they do it face to face this time, Eggsy bristles and wants to know why.

Tequila never says anything about it, because whenever he does Eggsy gets pissed and closes off. The whole thing makes Tequila a bit uneasy, and that’s another reason that liking sex with Eggsy makes him feel guilty, because he knows something is going on with his partner, but what is he supposed to do when Eggsy won’t talk to him?

It’s not like he’s the one initiating it: Eggsy likes sex. Or, at least, he seems keen enough on having it, and Tequila trusts Eggsy to not hurt himself with this. So he questions where he can and tries not to push the boundaries too much because hopefully Eggsy will tell him about it when he’s ready.

Tequila just hopes that day comes soon. The last thing he wants is to be a cautionary tale about emotionless spies whose relationship fails due to lack of communication, which is apparently a big problem, according to Merlin, who has one of the healthiest marriages Tequila has ever seen. He doesn’t want to cross a line, whether he’s aware of said line or not.

Tonight is one of those nights where Eggsy is bossy. It started out fine, Eggsy pushing him up against the door and getting his hands down Tequila’s pants the moment they got home. “I missed you,” Eggsy cooed.

“I was only gone a week.”

“Too long.” And Eggsy had dragged him by the belt to their bedroom, both of them shedding clothes as they went.

But then it had gotten weird, like it did sometimes, because Tequila had missed Eggsy too and between the frantic kissing and the hands refamiliarizing themselves with each other’s bodies, Tequila had gotten Eggsy under him on the mattress and made a sound of protest when Eggsy went to turn over onto his stomach.

Eggsy laughed. “Kind of can’t get to the main event if you don’t let me up, babe.”

“Can if we do it like this,” Tequila teased, and immediately regretted it when Eggsy’s face darkened. Instead of fighting it, he pulled away to get the lube, and Eggsy flipped over. “Condom?” Tequila asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

That’s another quirk of Eggsy’s that Tequila doesn’t like. No matter what he asks about using a condom, no matter which way he phrases the question, Eggsy’s response is always something akin to ‘don’t worry about it.’ Not a yes or a no, but a signal of indifference, and the one time Tequila pressed on it he got the bitchiest ‘yes’ in response and was irritated enough to lose interest in having sex that night.

So Tequila skipped the condom, prepped Eggsy quickly the way Eggsy liked – Tequila prefers to spend a little longer on prep if he’s allowed, but Eggsy squirms and insists Tequila get on with it, and there’s already something hanging in the air between them tonight and Tequila doesn’t want to ruin perfectly good welcome-home-sex – and slides right in. He keeps his strokes gentle, more for himself than for Eggsy, if he’s being honest. Without the prep, Eggsy is so fucking tight, and it’s more sensation than Tequila can really handle.

Underneath him, Eggsy groans and arches back against him in an effort to force him deeper inside. “C’mon babe,” he whines. “Fuck me harder. I’m not gonna fucking break.” And it’s that edged bossy voice again, the one that Tequila doesn’t like.

He presses his nose into the juncture of Eggsy’s neck, nuzzling in so he can ground himself. He doesn’t change the lazy pace of his thrusts, still acclimatizing. “Give me a minute.”

Eggsy groans in frustration, bucking back again, and Tequila grabs his hips, stilling his motions altogether. “Hey. I said wait.”

“What for?”

And Tequila has just about had it. The mood is gone. He starts to pull out, and Eggsy makes a frustrated sound, grabbing onto him. “Don’t stop,” he says. “The fuck you doing that for?” The edge to his voice is more pronounced.

All that does is prove to Tequila he’s making the right choice, and he has a lot more bulk and all the leverage in this position, so he pulls out all the way in spite of Eggsy’s complaints. Eggsy stops trying to fight him on it, just huffs and goes to the bathroom, presumably to wipe some of the lube off himself. Tequila lays back on the bed. Part of him wants to follow Eggsy, to make sure he’s not angry, but honestly he’s too irritated himself.

Before he has enough of a chance to calm down, Eggsy storms back into the room and demands, “What the fuck is your problem?”

Tequila jolts upright again. “My problem? I’m not the one with the problem here!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me?”

“Yes!” Tequila hadn’t wanted to shout, but he can’t help himself. “Something is obviously wrong, but you won’t fucking talk to me about it and I’m so sorry that I want to make love to you-“

“Don’t fucking call it that!”

“-and want to see your face while I  _ make love _ to you, and its not like it would kill you to hold my hand in public every once in a while!”

“What the fuck kind of game are you trying to play here?”

“Game?” Tequila’s anger has stopped in its tracks, his voice at a more reasonable level in his confusion.

Eggsy’s anger hasn’t caught on yet. He paces back and forth across the carpet, like there’s too much fury in his body to keep still, and rages, “I get it, alright? You’re so fucking good for wanting to fuck me, you  _ love _ me and this is a fucking fairytale where you bed me and it’s all rose petals and scented fucking candles. Jesus, grow the fuck up and stop pretending. You ain’t gonna hurt my delicate feelings, you’re just fucking pissing me off.”

“I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?”

“I mean, Jesus Christ, you ask if I’m into it every two seconds. Newsflash, I’m fine, you don’t need to fucking make sure every other thrust.”

That’s an exaggeration, but Tequila protests, “I just want to be sure-“

Eggsy interrupts him, “Yeah, I fucking got fucked by a lot of people who didn’t care if I liked it, and they made me feel filthy and used because that’s what fucking happens when you whore yourself out, but it don’t mean you have to drag that shit back into bed. This ain’t the same thing and you don’t have to ‘make sure’ fifty times.”

Tequila blinks. Every trace of anger has left his body, replaced by bone-chilling cold because he knew there was  _ something _ Eggsy wasn’t telling him about, but this sounds an awful lot worse than what he was expecting. “Eggsy,” he says, very carefully. “Sweetheart. What the fuck are you talking about?”

Eggsy freezes. “What do you mean, what am I talking about?” He turns towards Tequila fully, wrapping his arms around himself, reminding Tequila that they are both still naked. At least Eggsy isn’t yelling anymore. “You…didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?” Oh, he’s got a pretty good idea now, but he needs Eggsy to say it, praying that he’s wrong.

Eggsy swallows hard. Tequila uses the silence to stand up, finding his sleep pants and tugging them on, then passing Eggsy’s to him. He sits down again, elbows propped on his knees. “Come on. Talk to me.”

Eggsy doesn’t pull the sweats on, just stands with them in his hands, toying with the waistband, like he’s not fully aware he’s holding them. “I just sorta…I assumed you knew. That I was…” He trails off, his voice choked, like the words don’t want to come out.

“Sweetheart?”

Eggsy gulps, and then suddenly busies himself with pulling on his pajamas. “I, uh. I was a rent boy for a while. You know what that is?”

“An escort?” Tequila guesses. Then, from the look on Eggsy’s face, he reminds himself that as posh as Eggsy sometimes acts, he came from pretty much the same place Tequila did. “A prostitute,” he corrects himself. “Right? When you say whore, you mean literally.”

Eggsy nods, and he looks so damn ashamed that Tequila’s heart shudders and threatens to break. He studies the floor, and Tequila watches his eyes trace patterns in the carpet. “Did it for a couple years. Was better than running drugs and shit, I guess. Paid better, and that got Dean off my back.”

Tequila stands up, and Eggsy flinches. Tequila freezes, and then offers his arms out. “Come here, baby,” he murmurs. Instead of approaching him, leaning into the touch the way he normally does, Eggsy shies away, and that does break Tequila’s heart. He lets his arms fall. “I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“How did you not know?” Eggsy asks. “I mean, you’ve got access to Kingsman’s files now…I looked at your Statesman one…”

“Thought you might have,” Tequila says. He knows what it says about him, about his past. Eggsy’s been real considerate about it, too. Tequila isn’t sure if it’s the nonsense with Poppy or respect for Tequila’s decision to quit cold turkey or what, but he knows Eggsy used to smoke weed and he hasn’t so much as smelled a joint since they moved in together. He sighs. “I did skim your file, but I didn’t look too close. Wanted to get to know you the old-fashioned way. I figured anything important, you’d tell me. I probably shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry.”

Eggsy looks up at him, incredulous. “I just told you you’re sleeping with former street trash, and you’re apologizing to  _ me _ ?”

“Hey,” Tequila protests. “Don’t call yourself that.” Tequila will never say he’s pro prostitution, but he also understands what drives people to it, and he certainly doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with Eggsy for having been one. Especially given the circumstances. The disgust he feels is with himself, not Eggsy, because he should have pushed sooner, shouldn’t have kept fucking him  _ knowing _ something was wrong, no matter how much Eggsy said he was into it.

Apparently, Eggsy does not agree with his statement. He wrinkles his nose up and sets his chin in that defiant way of his. “Why not?” he challenges. “It’s fucking true. You have idea how many guys I spread my legs for? The things I did just to make a few bucks? It ain’t even sloppy seconds anymore,  _ sweetheart _ . It’s fucking disgusting.” He rubs his fingers over his arms, scrubbing at the skin. Tequila’s not even sure Eggsy’s aware he’s doing it.

He takes a cautious step towards Eggsy, and when Eggsy doesn’t move away again he approaches him fully, holding out his hands for Eggsy to take. “Why don’t we go back to bed? You don’t want to stand there all night, do you?”

“Yeah, fine,” Eggsy mumbles. “Whatever.” He pushes past Tequila – without taking his hands – and drops onto the bed, scooting all the way up to the headboard so he can lean back and wrap his arms around his knees. Tequila settles towards the center, wanting to be closer to Eggsy but also leaving him some space. Eggsy still isn’t looking at him, and he goes out of his way to keep away from Tequila’s touch. Tequila doesn’t try to force the issue.

“Have you ever talked about this with anyone? Professionally, I mean.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eggsy scoffs. “Went down to the fucking shrink department and told them their newest agent is even more trash than they thought. Thought they might like a laugh. Maybe settle the office debate over whether I was actually a whore or just a filthy pleb.”

“Eggsy-“

“No, I didn’t fucking tell them. I fucking dealt with it myself. Besides, why would they care? I’m already whoring myself out for Kingsman plenty, that’s just something to add to my resume.”

Tequila recoils. “They still send you out on honey traps?” He hasn’t gone on any in years. With Statesmen, the former Agent Whiskey had pulled seniority for just about all of them, or one of the other agents would be called. Ginger wouldn’t send Tequila on a honey trap unless absolutely necessary, and for good reason, and now that he’s at Kingsman with Eggsy he’s had it officially marked on his paperwork that he’s not to be sent on them at all. The idea that Eggsy still has to do them is horrifying.

Eggsy hesitates. “Well, not since you,” he amends. “I…I know it’s just for work, it doesn’t really mean anything, but it still made me feel bad, thinking about doing that when I had you. Besides. Thought you’d like it better if your boyfriend didn’t act like a whore, for Kingsman or otherwise.”

That’s he’s so casual about this, like he’s being  _ considerate _ , doing it for  _ Tequila’s _ sake, is enough to make Tequila sick to his stomach. “I’m never going to say I  _ want _ you to go on missions like that,” he says carefully, “but if it’s something you wanted to do I’d be okay with it. I just want you to be happy.” He really doesn’t want Eggsy doing honey traps, doesn’t think they would make Eggsy happy, but Eggsy has been touchy enough tonight, and Tequila doesn’t want him to think he’s judging him.

Eggsy eyes him suspiciously. “And you could really be happy, knowing your boyfriend was off with other people?”

“I mean, not happy, but it’s just for work. Like you said, it don’t mean the same thing.” Tequila still hates the idea, but he doesn’t want Eggsy to change how he does his job for Tequila’s sake.

“Nah.” Eggsy shakes his head. “But that don’t mean it feels good. Bad enough coming home to you knowing what I used to do. Don’t want to add more shit on top of that.”

It feels like they’re talking in circles and Tequila really wants to touch Eggsy, but his boyfriend won’t let him and it’s  _ frustrating _ . “I don’t care,” he says. “Sweetheart, tell me what to say. What can I do to convince you that it doesn’t matter to me what you used to do because I love you, and all I want is to be with you now. Whatever you did in the past, whatever you had to do, I get it. And it doesn’t make you dirty or disgusting or any of the other negative things you’re thinking.” Eggsy turns away, and Tequila recognizes that contrary look on his face and switches tactics. “Do you think I’m dirty?”

“What?” It’s enough of a shift to pull Eggsy’s eyes back to him, confusion splashed across his face.

Tequila toys with the bedspread. “You’ve read my file,” he says, intentionally keeping his voice casual. “You know I used to do…shit, pretty much all the drugs. A lot. Like, I should probably be dead from that many drugs.”

“So?”

“So,” Tequila says, “I didn’t come from money. Didn’t have a nice, convenient job or an inheritance to pay for my bad habit. So I did some things I’m not entirely proud of to get my hands on whatever I was craving. Didn’t ever take to the street or nothing, but I came pretty close, some of the stuff I was doing. I didn’t care. It was just sex, and if I was high during it I didn’t have to think about it, you know? Wasn’t until Champ pulled me out of the gutter and brought me to Statesman that I started to feel like the trailer-trash everybody else thought I was.”

“But that ain’t your fault,” Eggsy protests. “Shit happens sometimes, and yeah it got out of control, but it don’t mean you’re trash.”

Tequila raises his eyebrows, and Eggsy frowns, like he doesn’t quite get Tequila’s point yet. “Sweetheart,” Tequila says, and tries not to sound patronizing, “I was blowing near-strangers just to get my next hit. I’m willing to bet your reason was a lot different.” He makes a guess from what he does know of Eggsy’s past, “Your mom and sis? Needed money, right? Babies are expensive.”

Eggsy adjusts his arms around his legs and mumbles to his knees, “Dean said he needed us to earn our keep. Said if I didn’t do it, he’d send mum out and he’d send Daisy away. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Tequila reaches out, carefully resting his hand on Eggsy’s shoulder, and when Eggsy doesn’t resist him he pulls his boyfriend to his chest, hugging him close. He kisses Eggsy’s temple and murmurs into his hair, “Darling, you’re one of the bravest people I know, and having survived through that is a goddamn miracle. How could anyone think bad of you for that?”

Eggsy tucks his face into Tequila’s shoulder and doesn’t answer, and Tequila kisses the top of his head. “Alright,” he says, “I think we’re both a little worn out. Do you want to go to bed and talk about this some other time?”

Eggsy gives the tiniest of nods, just a little jerk of his head against Tequila’s collarbone. Tequila scoops him up, shoving back the covers and depositing him under them, then curling around him, needing badly to hold Eggsy, to reassure himself that his sweetheart is here in his arms.

When he wakes up, Eggsy is gone, and Tequila nearly panics before he hears the sound of the toilet flush and Eggsy comes crawling back into bed, tucking himself against Tequila’s side without prompting, nuzzling back into his warmth.

“I wasn’t underage or nothing.”

“What?”

Eggsy looks up at him. “When I was doing that shit for Dean. I was over sixteen. I wasn’t a kid or anything.”

“Okay.”

“I could consent. I knew what I was doing.”

“I believe you.”

Eggsy falls silent again. Then, “It wasn’t really rape.”

“Eggsy-“

“It wasn’t. I let them do it to me. And I told some guys no, when they wanted to do weird shit and stuff. Knives, ropes. That kind of thing.”

“Doesn’t mean you wanted the rest of it.” God, it’s too early for this, but if Eggsy is finally opening up then it doesn’t matter what time it is, because Tequila is there for it.

“I could say no.”

“Could you?”

Quiet again. Eggsy squirms, and then mumbles against his chest, “I don’t like thinking about it like that. Was doing it for Daisy. And mum. I chose it.”

Tequila pets his hair and doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to demean Eggsy’s choice, even if it doesn’t really seem like a choice at all.

“It wasn’t rape with you either.”

“What?” Tequila’s heart misses a beat.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty about having sex with me. It wasn’t rape. I wanted it.”

“You’re sure?”

He swears he can feel Eggsy roll his eyes, close as they’re cuddling. “Yes, I’m sure.” He sighs. “Look, I did some shit, alright? But I told you, it ain’t in our bedroom.”

“Isn’t it?” Tequila asks. “You hate it when I called it ‘making love’ when we have sex, and you never let me see your face when we’re doing it. And that’s just in the bedroom. I’m not allowed to show anyone how I feel about you outside the bedroom either. Seems to me like that shit is already there.”

Eggsy inhales sharply, like he’s about to retort, and then he sinks back down against Tequila’s chest. “Maybe it is. It’s just…you deserve better. And I don’t…I can’t…” Tequila feels a dampness and looks down. Tears are leaking from Eggsy’s eyes, even as he stifles his sobs.

“Shit.” He sits up, pulling Eggsy with him and crushing him in a hug. “Shh, baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Eggsy whimpers. His words are full of stutters and hiccups. “You say it’s okay, that you love me, you want me, and how am I supposed to believe it? No one’s ever wanted me for more than a night or two. A couple guys came back pretty regularly, but that was still just sex, it wasn’t love, and it’s fucking  _ filthy _ and you shouldn’t have to touch that.” At least he isn’t pushing Tequila away anymore. Quite the opposite; he’s clinging so hard Tequila thinks he might have bruises later. “How can I let you hold me when I know…”

“Like this,” Tequila says. He strokes Eggsy’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’m not just staying for a night or two, and not just for sex. I love you, and I want to hold you, and I don’t care if you feel dirty or like you don’t deserve me because you deserve good things, and if you think I’m one of them then I think you do deserve me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Eggsy sniffles and scrubs away some of the tears with his hand. Tequila grabs the tissues on the nightstand and gently wipes his cheeks, cupping his face and kissing him softly. “You okay?”

Eggsy looks down at the bedspread. “I don’t know.” He hesitates, “Do you really think talking to someone about this will help? Can it make me stop feeling…like this?”

“Maybe,” Tequila says. “Maybe not. Ginger…sorry, Whiskey, she sent me to a couple rehabs while I was with Statesman. Nothing really stuck ‘cause I didn’t have time to stick around myself, but I liked the therapy. It worked for me, for awhile at least. I think if I’d been able to stick with it I might not be miserable right now trying to kick the drugs.”

“You’re miserable?”

Tequila hugs Eggsy again, gentler this time. “You make it a lot more bearable. It ain’t easy, but it’s worth it.”

“If I go to talk to someone, will you come with me?”

“If you want me to.”

Eggsy nods. “I want you to.”

***

Therapy turns out to be really good for both of them. Eggsy doesn’t do much talking at first, so Tequila talks about guilt, about knowing that something was wrong and how he feels like he should have said something sooner, how he shouldn’t have had sex with Eggsy knowing that and how bad he feels for liking Eggsy’s experience now that he knows where it comes from. It’s, for lack of a better term, therapeutic. He and Eggsy, with the help of the Kingman’s resident therapists, work through those feelings and the guilt starts to go away.

And, eventually, Eggsy starts to talk too, about being a prostitute and feeling dirty and not regretting it but also kind of regretting it and not being able to make those thoughts mesh. He talks about wanting to have sex with Tequila and liking it, but also about how certain things in bed turn his stomach, even simple things that shouldn’t.

It’s a work in progress, but it is in progress. It’s not snapping at each other and not understanding why they don’t seem to be on the same page and everything feels so much better now that Eggsy actually tells him how he feels.

Tequila makes a note to thank Merlin and tell him he’s always right. Maybe not to his face, though, because Merlin is the smug type, and so is Harry. Match made in heaven.

And sex changes between them. It happens less, and Tequila hesitates to push too far and Eggsy hesitates to ask for things, but it feels better – emotionally as well as physically.

And when Tequila comes home from his next long-term (okay, a week is not long-term, but it feels like forever to be away from Eggsy) mission six months later, Eggsy smiles, coy and flirtatious, and leads him to the bedroom by his belt, both of them trailing clothes as they undress.

Tequila presses Eggsy into the mattress, kissing and petting and refamiliarizing himself with his boyfriend’s body, and Eggsy murmurs against his lips, “Lube?”

Tequila sits up to get it, and when he looks back Eggsy is propped up on his elbows, watching him. “You’re not gonna…?” Tequila trails off.

Eggsy bites his lip, voice soft and shy. “I thought we could try it like this tonight. Just…just to see if I’m okay with it. If not, then we should, uh-“ He starts to rush out the words, and Tequila cuts him off.

“If you don’t like it, let me know, and we can stop.”

Eggsy grins. “Well, maybe not  _ stop _ .”

Tequila grins back, slicking his fingers and sliding them into Eggsy, who squirms at all the attention but lets Tequila do it. Tequila works methodically up to three fingers and then pulls back. “Condom?”

Eggsy hesitates, and Tequila waits. Eventually, Eggsy says, “Yeah, I think so. At least until you get the all-clear from medical again.”

Tequila nods and fetches one, sheathing his cock and stroking lube onto it. He lines himself up, and then pauses. “You still good?”

Eggsy whacks him lightly. “You don’t have to make sure every two seconds. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” But his voice is affectionate, and he adds, “But yeah, I’m still good. Come on, want you in me.”

Tequila slides home, relishing the wet heat, and presses a kiss to Eggsy lips when he bottoms out. “Let me know when you’re okay for me to move.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes and arches back. “Right about now.”

Tequila laughs and kisses him again, and Eggsy kisses back, clinging to him and moaning as Tequila starts up a lazy pace. “Come on, babe,” he breathes. “Fuck me harder. I’m not gonna break.”

“Yeah?” Tequila doesn’t make any effort to change his pace.

Eggsy reaches up and digs his nails gently into Tequila’s neck. “Oh, yeah. And that’s an order, agent.”

“Yes, sir.” Tequila snaps his hips forward, and Eggsy groans in pleasure. Tequila picks up the pace, faster and harder, and Eggsy lets Tequila press messy, open-mouthed kisses to his lips while he does it.

They’re both grinning too wide to care.


End file.
